001. A Marriage in Despair
Caelan Lysander had been prepared for this role his entire life. From the time he was a boy, he was groomed to inherit the family empire, trained to be ruthless and unflinching in the face of adversity. On the day he officially took control of the company, it was on the verge of collapse, torn apart by a financial crisis that few thought they could recover from. But Caelan wasn’t the type to back down. Piece by piece, with relentless determination, he rebuilt what had been broken. In the world of high finance, victories were fleeting and costly, and every win left him a little more hardened.
As a child, a fortune teller had once predicted that he was destined for greatness. “You have the bearing of a king,” she had told him. “One day, you will control the fate of many.” But with that prediction came a warning—his drive, if left unchecked, could destroy him and those around him.
Ten years later, Caelan stood at the pinnacle of power as the CEO of Lysander Enterprises. His success was undeniable, his reputation legendary. The media loved to paint him as a cold, untouchable figure—the man who had risen from the ashes of a failing company to build a global empire. But behind the glossy headlines and corporate accolades, Caelan had grown distant, his emotions buried beneath layers of control.
And now, this man—ruthless, driven, and emotionally unreachable—was married.
The announcement of Caelan’s sudden wedding sent shockwaves through the media. Speculation ran wild about the woman who could have captured the heart of such a man. Surely, they imagined, she must be beautiful, powerful, someone who matched his wealth and influence. But the truth was far from the fairy tales spun by the press.
Her name was Aveline, a quiet woman who had lived most of her life in the shadow of Caelan’s world. Raised by his grandfather after being orphaned, Aveline had always been on the periphery of his life—present but unseen, unnoticed. She wasn’t glamorous or striking. In fact, most people barely registered her existence.
At the age of ten, Aveline had been involved in a car accident that had taken the life of Caelan’s father. She had survived, but that day had marked her forever. To Caelan, she was a constant reminder of the tragedy that had shattered his family. And so, over the years, his resentment of her had only deepened.
Now, at twenty-four, Aveline had married him—not out of love or choice, but because Caelan’s grandfather had insisted.
The room was eerily silent. Aveline sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her nightgown. The room around her, though decorated for a wedding, felt cold and empty, the red silk sheets and gold accents doing little to warm the chill in the air. Across the room, Caelan sat on a leather sofa, his figure silhouetted against the dim light. He held a glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid absently as he stared at nothing in particular.
He hadn’t spoken much since the reception, and Aveline wasn’t sure how to bridge the growing silence between them. She forced herself to smile, but it felt hollow, the edges of her lips trembling with the effort.
“You happy now?” Caelan’s voice finally broke the silence, though it wasn’t the soft break she had hoped for. His words were sharp, cutting through the quiet with an edge that made Aveline flinch.
She looked up, startled, her hands stilling in her lap. “I just wanted to be with you,” she said softly, though the words felt fragile, as if they might shatter under the weight of his gaze.
Caelan let out a bitter laugh, the sound cold and humorless. “Well, you got your wish, didn’t you? We’re married. The whole world knows. You’re Mrs. Lysander now. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Aveline’s smile faltered, her heart tightening in her chest. “It’s not enough.”
The confession was barely a whisper, but it carried all the weight of the years she had spent yearning for something more than this. She had never wanted the title or the wealth. What she wanted was him—Caelan, the man behind the name. But to him, she was nothing more than a reminder of the worst day of his life.
Caelan’s expression darkened as he took another drink, his gaze hardening as he looked at her. “What more could you possibly want from me? I have money. You can spend it however you like. But don’t expect anything else from me.”
The words stung, sharp and final, but Aveline kept her voice steady. “I know.”
Caelan turned away, the disgust clear in the lines of his face as he refused to meet her eyes. The room seemed to grow colder, the distance between them widening with every second.
“Stop drinking,” she said quietly, taking a cautious step forward. “You’ve had enough.”
For a moment, Caelan stilled, his gaze flickering over her briefly before it hardened again. “Get away from me.”
The rejection hit her like a physical blow, and Aveline instinctively stepped back, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. Was this what their marriage would be like? A constant reminder of her place, always standing on the outside, looking in?
“And let me make one thing clear,” Caelan said, his voice like ice. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do. My life is mine. Stay out of it.”
Aveline stood frozen, her throat tightening with unsaid words, her mind spinning with the realization of how impossible this situation was.
There was a knock at the door, breaking the tension. Mrs. Bates, their housekeeper, called from the hallway, “Mr. Lysander, Mrs. Lysander, there’s someone here to see you.”
Caelan’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, though it was far from kind.
Aveline blinked, unsure of what was happening as she moved to open the door. Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Bates, looking uncomfortable, and beside her was a tall, striking woman with an air of confidence.
Before Aveline could process what was happening, Caelan spoke from behind her. “Liora, come in.”
The woman—Liora—glanced at Aveline briefly, a small smirk playing at her lips as she swept past her and walked directly to Caelan’s side. The scent of whiskey and expensive perfume lingered in the air as Liora smiled down at him, her voice teasing. “Looks like someone’s celebrating tonight.”
